


With Open Eyes

by arobynsung



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Character of Color, Community: storycubes, Episode Related, Gen, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arobynsung/pseuds/arobynsung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, nothing was quite the same. How could it possibly be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Open Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Gwen watches Morgana practice magic (Series 3). Written for the “Eye” cube from my given storycubes set. Beta by kathkin (LJ).

Gwen walked into Morgana's chambers just after dawn carrying freshly laundered sheets. She folded them with familiar care. She flitted about the room fixing this and that, adjusting this and that, light and graceful as a falling feather, taking care not to wake Morgana, just as she had always done. 

Of course, nothing was quite the same. How could it possibly be? 

Her mind flashed back to the look in Morgana's eyes, wild and angry with a fire that terrified Gwen more than she'd realized at the time. It made a horrible sort of sense, of course. Gwen could see it now, however much she tried not to. 

Morgana's impassiveness about the malevolent goings on in the kingdom when she was alone with Gwen. Her eyes, just this side of frosty when standing behind Arthur and the King (and really, how could they not see?), her complete lack of concern for the little bits of gossip Gwen would tell Morgana of the goings on in the lower town. There was a time when Gwen could trust Morgana to recognise the important bits of information in the stories– rising food prices, a lack of firewood in the winter. Gwen remembered a time when not more than a few days after she mentioned it, the amount of grain or firewood distributed to the people would increase, and Morgana would smile kindly at her and ask after the baker, or the new blacksmith, or the fabric makers, or the cobbler, or someone else who kept Camelot running; those Uther always forgot. Gwen could hardly believe the woman who’d sneak food from the castle stores to the poor in the winter would turn away so easily and close her eyes to them like her King before her.

Gwen almost dropped the hand mirror she was moving from the bedside bureau to the vanity when Morgana shifted in her sleep. Yet another change. Morgana slept soundly now. Very little disturbed her night these days. Gwen should be thankful, had been thankful, but now...

Her eyes went to the bracelet on her lady’s pale wrist.

Magic? That too?

Gwen continued her quiet arrangement of the room.  It seemed there was no room for questions these days. She sighed, letting the familiar wary acceptance settle around her like a shroud she didn’t have the strength to shake off.

Her eyes were open now. That had to count for something.  



End file.
